Jekyll…
How dare she be so cordial with me? Dr. Jekyll thought angrily, as he readied for bed that night. How dare she bring up Hyde? Is it not enough what she did to me years ago, that she must add insult to injury now, in front of the only friends I've ever gained? What can she accomplish by doing that?
Jekyll was, at one point, too fond of Kathryn Bennet. He had met her in London years prior, before either of them had fled in search of a haven. When they first met, he didn't know she was capable of doing anything she had done. He didn't think her any more than what met the eye. She, for all outward appearances, was the sweetest girl anyone would want to know. She was lovely, she was kind. She was practically perfect in the eyes of most of London's men…
Dr. Jekyll had been wandering London's streets one spring afternoon of 1891, in search of something to occupy his time. He had completed his latest experiment and was waiting for nightfall to test it one last time. So, he went to wander London. As he passed a house on Baker Street, he saw her. She was sitting on the front step, crying into her white-gloved hands.
As Jekyll approached her, he studied her. She would be nearly as tall as he, if she stood side-by-side to him. If her hair was unpinned, it would cascade about her shoulders in light brown curls. Though she was fairly tall, she was dainty; she looked like she was in need of someone to protect her. But she was well gloved and dressed in the most perfect taste. There was, however, a plainness and simplicity about her appearance which bore a suggestion of limited means. Her dress was a sombre greyish beige, untrimmed and unbraided. She wore no head covering, which seemed slightly odd, considering the fashion of women of the age. Then Jekyll saw her small, unaccented hat, of the same greyish beige as her dress, laying on the step beside her.
"Are you all right, Miss?" Jekyll asked when he drew level with her.
She looked up from her hands. Her face was streaked with tears, but she was the picture of modest beauty. "Sir, I know not who you are, but if you're willing to listen, I will tell you," she replied softly.
Jekyll sat beside her on the step. "I am Dr. Jekyll," he said. "Tell me your troubles, if you wish it."
She dabbed at her eyes with a white embroidered handkerchief. "My name is Kathryn Bennet," she said. "And I live in this house behind us. Yet, I cannot seem to enter it. The memories that remain in those walls haunt me each time I pass through them. I cannot know why, for certain, though. Perhaps it is because I am so accustomed to listening to my neighbour play violin every evening. And now I do not hear it, I cannot bear to remain within my own walls."
"Your neighbour?" Jekyll asked. He looked at the number on the house next-door. 221B Baker Street. "Surely not the famous Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"
"The same," she said, fresh tears coming to her eyes. "And he is dead. Fallen to his death off Reichenbach Falls with Professor Moriarty."
There was something in her manner that suggested to Jekyll that she might have possibly loved the renowned detective. "Were you close to him, Miss Bennet?" he asked.
She almost laughed. "I was as close as he would let any woman be to him," she replied somewhat dryly. "He kept his distance from me, as he kept his distance from most… But he helped me when I was in great need of his aid. And now that he is dead, I fear that many people who will need him will suffer for want of his help. And the silence issuing through the wall between our homes is almost unbearable. The violin is never heard coming from his home and I miss its mournful melodies."
"Is there anyway I can help you?" he asked her.
"No," she said, standing. "There is nothing anyone can do. For no one can bring back the dead." She quickly turned and entered her house, leaving Jekyll on her front steps, thoroughly confused.
Looking back on his first meeting with her, Jekyll saw how foolish he had been. He had let her trick him. He had let her into his concern. Let her into his heart. Soon, however, Jekyll learned what lay in her blackened heart…
Jekyll's interest in Miss Bennet grew with each of his visits. She seemed so depressed with the sudden death of Mr. Holmes, that Jekyll felt he should always be available to comfort her.
But, as his visits frequented his time, he noticed certain aspects of her personality that were certainly odd. She would study him intensely when they talked over tea. She would never take her eyes off him when they would walk through London. It was almost as though she was the scientist and he was the subject she was researching.
Soon, she began appearing on his front step unexpectedly, expecting him to let her inside his home. When he did let her in, she would examine everything within his home with extensive care and attention. It made Jekyll feel slightly uncomfortable to know that she was documenting everything about his life. He didn't know why she was doing that, and he never exactly wanted to know. But he knew that if she was going to use the information she gathered while observing what she did, he knew it would be dreadful for him.
But, he trusted her. He trusted her to keep what she knew to herself. His trust was shattered when he one day went to his laboratory and found a small vial of his formula was missing. He didn't know who had taken it, and if it was Miss Bennet, he didn't know how she could have gotten it.
Three days after he found the vial missing, Miss Bennet attempted to blackmail him. She claimed she would use the formula to expose him as the monstrous Mr. Hyde. He couldn't remember exactly what she wanted from him, but if he didn't do as she demanded, she was going to go to Scotland Yard with the formula.
He hadn't seen her since.
Until he was told by Captain Nemo that they were recruiting her to the League. When he heard that, he was furious. But he kept his anger to himself. His trouble with Miss Kathryn Bennet was between himself and her. He vowed to himself that he would resolve the issue without others interference. And he would resolve it soon.
